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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25387759">Pretty in Pink</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanine/pseuds/arcanine'>arcanine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Carry On Exchange (Simon Snow), Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Together, M/M, Slow Dancing, So many tropes, Undercover Missions, Undercover as a Couple, dancing's well gay, set in the carry on universe, there's magic but no Watford</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:02:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,580</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25387759</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanine/pseuds/arcanine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The mission, as it stands, is fairly simple. Attend a party. Locate an ancient magickal ring before some foolish Normal buys it at auction and attempts to whisk it off to <em>Antiques Roadshow</em>. Bring it back to the Coven. And convince the world that Baz — sorry, <em>Chaz</em> — and the man he’s lusted over for the last three years, four months and six days are a thriving, gay power couple. Because, of course, what would a hunt for a dangerous magickal artefact be without <em>that</em>?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>277</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Carry_On_Summer_Exchange_2020, Completed Snowbaz Favourites</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Pretty in Pink</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitybug/gifts">Caitybug</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a Carry On Exchange gift for <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/caitybug">Caitybug!</a> As soon as I saw the words "fake dating" in your prompt I knew what I wanted to write, and I may or may not have channelled my inner Simon to try and gather info on things you might like! I almost scrapped this and started over a bunch of times, but your reassurances to go balls to the wall in your prompt helped me stick with it. I really hope you enjoy it!</p><p>Thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire/pseuds/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire">sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire</a> for beta reading at such short notice!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Baz always knew that his career in the Coven’s special task force would be varied and exciting. But he never expected to find himself hiding behind a hedge, dressed as garishly as a pink lawn flamingo and staring at Simon Snow’s outstretched hand.</p><p>“Come on,” Snow insists for the second time. "If we're gonna pull this off then you've gotta hold my hand."</p><p>“No,” Baz hisses back. “The last thing I want is your sweaty palms on me. And I hate public displays of affection.”</p><p>“<em>You</em> might, but that doesn’t mean Chaz does.”</p><p>“How do you know what Chaz likes?”</p><p>“Because I’m engaged to him, remember?"</p><p>“Well, what if Chaz changed his mind? Maybe he's lining up his divorce lawyer before the deed is even done."</p><p>"You <em>love </em>me,” Snow says, and Baz jerks back in horror. “No, I mean, not me <em>me</em> but—” He’s blustering as per usual, flustered now all of a sudden. “Oh, you know what I mean! This is just work. And we've dealt with so much worse. Now hold my hand or I'm spelling them together.”</p><p>"Keep your wand away from me,” Baz hisses.</p><p>“Not what you said last night, is it?”</p><p>Snow raises his eyebrows, and Baz elbows him promptly in the ribs. He wants no reminders of last night. He <em>did</em> ask Snow to use his wand, but only in the hopes that he’d cast a spell that would backfire and transport Baz to some parallel dimension where he'd no longer have to deal with the torture of having his exceedingly attractive work partner tossing and turning beside him in bed. Baz spent the entire night staring sleeplessly at the hotel ceiling, alternating between aching over Snow’s close proximity and running through every step of the plan on repeat.</p><p>The mission, as it stands, is fairly simple. Attend a party. Locate an ancient magickal ring before some foolish Normal buys it at auction and attempts to whisk it off to <em>Antiques Roadshow</em>. Bring it back to the Coven. And convince the world that Baz — sorry, <em>Chaz</em> — and the man he’s lusted over for the last three years, four months and six days are a thriving, gay power couple. Because, of course, what would a hunt for a dangerous magickal artefact be without <em>that</em>?</p><p>Fiona said that part was non-negotiable. Baz protested heavily, but she always gets the final say now that she’s his handler. The power’s gone to her head since she got that promotion. Now she goes around sticking her Doc Martens on expensive wooden desks and insists upon getting her own way. She said that sending Baz undercover as a flamboyant collector with Snow by his side was the only way they could get close enough, but Baz suspects she might have done it to amuse herself. Or worse, to torture him, because Baz is so transparent that everyone but Snow is aware of his massively inconvenient workplace infatuation.</p><p>Yes, at the end of the day, it's all Fiona's fault. For starters, Baz wouldn't even have met Snow if she hadn’t inspired him to join the task force after university. It always felt like a blessing, having her on his side in a Coven that’s still prejudiced against anyone from the Old Families. To work with someone who he trusts with his life (if not his alcohol cabinet.)</p><p>But this is no blessing. <em>This </em>is a curse.</p><p>His disguise for tonight is just the icing on the cake. Quite literally. Baz wouldn’t look out of place flopped lifelessly on top of one. And he would be lifeless, because his reflection is currently so unsettling that he locked himself in the bathroom for over half an hour when he first saw it. He didn't come out until the fifth time Snow pounded on the door. And the look on his face when he stepped out almost made Baz rush right back in there.</p><p>The <em><strong>Pretty in pink</strong></em> spell that Fiona kindly placed on his suit for the evening worked on everything<em>. </em>His shirt. His socks. His nails. His <em>hair</em>. (Crowley, his poor hair.) And not just the hair on his head either. His eyebrows and his stubble and his... <em>everywhere.</em></p><p>It's hardly fair. Baz got cast as the love child of some candy floss and a Pink Wafer biscuit, whilst Snow still manages to look attractive. He looks like a 90s boy band member with his grey suit and his hair charmed tastefully a few shades lighter. And don’t even get Baz started on the glasses. They gave him round glasses that make his eyes look a deeper shade of blue and they keep taking Baz's breath away every time he has the poor sense to look into them. Snow keeps prodding at them because he’s not used to wearing them, and it’s so cute. So unreasonably distracting.</p><p>He's starting to think Fiona did that on purpose too. Presumed that Baz’s type is smart and bookish and dressed Snow accordingly just to further provoke him. She's wrong though. Baz's type is specifically Simon Snow, the strong, brave, buffoon that he is.</p><p>There’s no doubt about the buffoon part. Snow’s been treating this whole thing as though it’s one big joke. He's been giddy since they arrived at the hotel last night, acting like they're on some kind of mini-break, because Snow just loves a good undercover mission. And apparently, using overt homosexuality to track down an heirloom is no different from tracking down vampire gangs or dragon poachers using much more conventional methods.</p><p>They've been through so much over the past few years. They’ve fought together. Fought <em>each other</em>. Put aside their many, many differences for the sake of making it out alive. They've learned to trust each other. Stood side by side and survived what felt like the impossible.</p><p>But Snow is wrong about one thing.</p><p>They’ve never dealt with anything worse than pretending to be engaged<em>. </em></p><p>***</p><p>If Baz has to introduce himself as <em>Charles Broodington-Longfellow </em>again, he’ll probably cut out his tongue. Snow chose it. He teamed up with Fiona to get them onto the party's guest list and then named himself <em>Rex Butterworth Jr.</em> He keeps grinning about it as he introduces himself, like merely saying the word <em>butter </em>is the peak of highbrow wit. He’s having the time of his life. And Baz is near losing his mind.</p><p>The party is tolerable at best. It’s entirely predictable — chandeliers and champagne flutes and the same string quartet that gets hired for every one of these lifeless functions. It's peak mundanity — a room filled with Normals who are desperate to grapple for anything someone richer than them deemed valuable.</p><p>And yet Snow seems so at ease here somehow. It’s probably the free food. It has to be. He’s been stuffing his face since the second they walked through the door. (Hand in hand because of course Baz gave in eventually. He was far too weak to pass up the opportunity.)</p><p>Baz thought Simon would slip up so easily. He thought he'd drop his (frankly offensive) fake posh accent to growl at Baz five minutes in. He doesn't fit into this world, not even slightly, but he's coping. Flourishing, even. And Baz is barely staying afloat.</p><p>Snow's not normally the touchy-feely type. Baz can probably count the number of deliberate touches they’ve shared since they began working together on one hand. But he's going all out tonight — soft fingers brushing his arm or pressing against his shoulder. And Baz is so weak for it. So far gone that even the sight of Snow eating a square of cheese off a cocktail stick feels like a sensual experience.</p><p>Baz is desperate to make a run for it. Nothing engages his fight or flight response like being close to Snow, and his every instinct is screaming out to shove Snow into an ice sculpture and get the hell out of here.</p><p>But he's a professional. He’s here for a reason. And though he loathes to say it, their whole loved-up act is actually kind of working. All their murmuring and standing too close is repelling all kinds of closed-minded types, and it feels like a challenge to make them look away. It feels good to share a secret with Snow. To stand by his side, just for one night, and imagine what his life would be like if all his dreams actually came true.</p><p>It’s fruitless to think of it that way. It's wholly pathetic, and it stings somewhere deep in his chest. Baz can get through this. It’s only a few hours. He’ll smile and withstand it even when Snow grabs his arm for what feels like the hundredth time.</p><p>"Look," Snow says as a waiter strolls past with a tray of canapés. "I think they're… oh my God, they are. Mini quiches!" His fingers are tapping so excitedly against Baz’s elbow that you’d think he’d never eaten before. "They're so cute. I need one. Come with me."</p><p>Snow tugs him across the room, and Baz's stomach performs a series of flips so complex that he’s certain it could win Olympic gold.</p><p>This is going to kill him.</p><p>He'll be lucky if he survives the night.</p><p>***</p><p>Simon’s having fun. Some might say too much. He’s at a posh party and there’s food everywhere and Baz is basically banned from being all snarky about everything, which is brilliant. Plus all this undercover stuff is pretty exciting. Simon feels like a detective or a secret agent. He feels so invincible with Baz beside him.</p><p>Baz is different tonight. It’s probably all the pink that makes him seem softer. Simon's jaw dropped the second he first saw him, and even now he can’t stop staring. It's infuriating really. He should look ridiculous, but he's actually pulling it off, which is bloody typical. But then, that's Baz for you. He'd probably look like he just stepped off the catwalk even if he rocked up in a bin bag.</p><p>People keep staring at him like they know he's someone special, and Simon’s not surprised. In this room full of posh, boring Normals, he’s practically glowing.</p><p>He's not the real Baz, of course. Simon knows that under the polished pink surface he must be biting back judgemental comments or daydreaming about dropkicking anyone who mentions his hair. But it’s easy to forget that when he's being all charming and polite. When he's actually smiling. He has such a great smile when he actually has the decency to use it.</p><p>There's this one woman who clearly thinks so. She won't leave Baz alone. She cornered them by the dessert corner, dripping in diamonds, her dress sparkling like a bloody disco ball, and Simon wishes she'd just piss off. She's clearly untrustworthy. She’s touched Baz's arm at least four times now and she could be a spy, or someone sent to compromise their mission. Or worse... she might <em>fancy</em> Baz.</p><p>They've really gotta get rid of her soon.</p><p>She's leaning too close now, fluttering her long eyelashes, and Simon’s never met anyone who talks so posh. He hates it. <em>Sod off.</em></p><p>"Chaz, darling, you just <em>have</em> to tell me more about your collections. They sound fascinating," she purrs and Simon’s jaw tightens.</p><p>"Ah. Well, I mostly collect— "</p><p>“Pogs," Simon interjects. "And Beanie Babies. And those sticker books from the World Cup."</p><p>Baz forces a laugh. "He's joking, of course."</p><p>"Of course." The woman joins in with a false tinkering laugh. “Hilarious.”</p><p>“I’m not! You should see our room. Completely covered in the things. All those football stickers right above the bed — which we share, by the way. <em>Together</em>.” Simon raises his eyebrows just to make sure she gets it. ”And we don’t just sleep there if y’know what I mean.”</p><p>“Oh.” The woman blinks. “I— “</p><p>She looks thoroughly taken aback. Simon flashes her a grin. Then he turns to Baz, blinking up at him as lovingly as he can manage. "Dance with me?"</p><p>It takes Baz a moment to respond. "Alright,” He nods at the woman. “Please excuse us."</p><p>"It was a pleasure to meet you!" Simon calls out over his shoulder.</p><p>“Pogs?” Baz hisses in his ear as they cross the room. “Really. That’s the best you could come up with?”</p><p>“You could thank me, you know," Simon huffs. "I just got us away from that boring conversation."</p><p>“Oh, it wasn't that bad. It'd be weird if we didn't mingle."</p><p>"It'd be weirder if we spent all night talking to <em>her</em>. She's well suspicious. Hanging around and asking all those questions,” Simon is practically fuming. “You're here with <em>me</em>. And we don’t need someone like that interrupting us. I'm just helping us stay focused.”</p><p>They reach the edge of the polished ballroom floor and Baz extends his hand. He shakes his head, but he's smiling, just a bit.</p><p>“Come on then,” Baz says. “Since you're so concerned. I'll let you have me all to yourself.”</p><p>Simon's heart starts hammering. There's a string quartet playing a cover of a slow song he vaguely recognises and a bunch of people coupled off and swaying perfectly in sync. Simon lets Baz lead him into the thrum of bodies and then just stands there like a useless lump. He's no good at this stuff. He only suggested dancing to get them away. He didn't really think about what it would actually entail.</p><p>Baz places a hand on his waist and Simon almost jumps out his skin.</p><p>"Here," Baz moves Simon's hand to his own shoulder, then wraps his fingers around the other one. His limbs are long and graceful and his posture’s to die for. "You're too tense. Don't you know how to dance?"</p><p>Simon shrugs. He expects Baz to roll his eyes, but he doesn't. He really is different tonight.</p><p>"Just follow my lead.”</p><p>Simon tries, but he's so clumsy. He can feel some of the posh old fogies staring at them like they know he doesn’t belong here, but Baz ignores them. He instructs Simon so patiently. And Simon repays him by stepping on his feet three times in a row.</p><p>“Don’t worry about the footwork," Baz says. "Just sway if you have to.”</p><p>“Sway?” Simon frowns.</p><p>Baz hand slides lower on Simon’s waist. “<em>Sway</em>.”</p><p>Simon’s kinda already swaying without meaning to. Because he’s lightheaded. Because Baz is so close. He needs to focus on the mission. He can't get off track. But Baz smells so good tonight. Kinda… sweet almost? Maybe that weird pink spell that made him smell like a Greggs doughnut or something. He doesn’t know. All he <em>does </em>know is that something strange is happening. That all this gay stuff is messing with his head.</p><p>"So," Simon blurts out, because he has to make some kind of conversation. "So who proposed then?"</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>"Who d'you reckon? Was it me or you?"</p><p>“<em>Obviously</em> it was me,” Baz answers. “I’m a traditionalist and a romantic and you… Well, I’ve never seen you seduce anything other than a sausage roll.”</p><p>Simon scoffs. “You’re not a romantic. I’ve never seen you chatting up anyone.”</p><p>“Why would I when you're always right there? When I only have eyes for you.”</p><p>Simon's cheeks flare with heat. He knows Baz is only saying that because there are people everywhere. He's just reminding Simon not to break character. He knows all that, but hearing Baz say it is still—</p><p><em>Merlin</em>. This whole night’s too much.</p><p>He dares to look up, and Baz gazes back at him. His eyes are still the same colour they always are — the deep grey of a stormy sky, the kind that makes your skin tingle. He's still Baz underneath all this. The partner who he relies on, who drives him up the wall. Baz will probably tear him apart on Monday. He’ll taunt Simon forever for being a trembling wreck with sweaty palms who can't dance to save his life.</p><p>But right now, he’s soft and he's close, and leaning into him is permitted. <em>Expected </em>even. Baz shifts and pulls him closer. Simon can’t get over how much he likes this.</p><p>“Rex,” Baz murmurs by his ear, and Simon takes a breath.</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"It looks like they're gearing up for the speeches."</p><p>Right. The speeches. Their chance to make a move before everyone moves next door to the Alexandra Suite for the auction. Simon forces himself back into work mode, scanning the room for security guards.</p><p>"Three on my side," he whispers in Baz's ear.</p><p>"Six in total," Baz murmurs back. "Would you care for a drink?" he asks louder.</p><p>Simon nods. "Yeah. Yeah, let’s go get one.”</p><p>They stop dancing. Baz holds out his hand, and Simon squeezes it. He's starting to think that maybe Fiona was doing more than just winding them up here. Because when they walk across the room together, hand in hand, no one seems to bat an eyelid.</p><p>They leave the ballroom and head down an empty corridor, pressed tight to the wall.</p><p>"Camera," Simon says quietly, and Baz pulls out his wand.</p><p><em>"<strong>Off with their heads,</strong>" </em>he says with magic, and the top of the security camera pops off.</p><p>"Cool," Simon says, and Baz shrugs like he knows he's brilliant.</p><p>They find the right door easily. Simon twists the handle. “Locked.”</p><p>“It requires a code,” Baz says. “I could— ”</p><p>Simon charges at it. He slams his body against the door and tries to bash it open with his strength alone. It's arguably not his best idea. He bangs his thigh and it hurts like a bastard and the door doesn’t even budge. But… but at least it looked good, right?</p><p>“You idiot,” Baz hisses. “You have a wand<em>. </em>And I was about to use a spell.”</p><p>“I just thought it’d be cool,” Simon says, rubbing his leg. “They always do it in action films. Fuck, that really hurt. It’s definitely bruised.”</p><p>“I have no sympathy for you. You’re a fool<em>. </em>Now let me— ”</p><p>There’s a sound. Footsteps.</p><p>“Someone's coming,” Simon whispers.</p><p>“No thanks to you,” Baz whispers back. “Crowley, you just had to go and alert the whole world by bashing the door like a— ”</p><p>“Who’s there?” A gruff voice asks.</p><p>Simon doesn’t have time to think it through. He loops his arm around Baz’s neck and just grabs him, claiming his lips in a rough kiss. He feels Baz tense, but he doesn't have time to worry about it. He shoves him back against the wall and just goes for it, slides his fingers in Baz’s hair and tugs a little and then Baz is pushing back against him. His lips are cool and soft and his arms are sliding around Simon’s waist, drawing him closer. Simon’s burning up. Baz is kissing him back. They're—</p><p>“You're not supposed to be here."</p><p>They part slowly and the world blurs back into focus. Heavy wood door. Security bloke who can't seem to decide whether to be shocked or horrified. And Baz with his pink lips and his long fingers, smoothing down his hair because Simon just messed it up. He looks all calm and collected, and surely he should be at least a <em>bit </em>flustered. Simon feels like he’s made of molten fire right now, like he’s blushing from his forehead to his toes.</p><p>“My apologies,” Baz says cooly, adjusting his suit jacket. “We’ve just been waiting for so long. You can hardly blame us for getting distracted.”</p><p>The security bloke looks like a tough guy with his shaved head and his hard expression, but Simon’s not worried. He's just a Normal. They hold all the power here.</p><p>Baz draws himself up taller. His confidence is incredible — like kinda really sexy. Is that because Simon just snogged him? No, it’s not just that. He’s always had more confidence that any person should. Simon sort of loves it.</p><p>“I assume you were sent to assist us with the private viewing," Baz says.</p><p>The man frowns. “What private viewing?”</p><p>“What private viewing?” Baz scoffs. “I was promised a look at the signet ring before it goes up to auction. The name's Broodington-Longfellow. I’m sure you've heard of me?"</p><p>The man shakes his head. "Can't say I have.”</p><p>"You haven't heard of me?" Baz huffs with the overdramatic outrage of a thoroughly inconvenienced rich person, and he nails it, to be honest. If Simon didn't know him, he'd probably wanna deck him.</p><p>"It's alright, love," Simon says, shifting closer so he can rub soothing strokes down Baz’s arm. "He’s probably just new around here. There’s no need to get all angry about it.”</p><p>“This is an insult to me as a <em>collector. </em>I spoke personally to Mr Lamb about this and he assured me I could check for any damage before the ring went up to auction.” Baz pauses dramatically, hands planted firm on his hips. “Where <em>is </em>your manager, by the way? I’d love to speak to him personally.”</p><p>“Uh, well… he's making a speech,” the man answers. "I can’t exactly interrupt him— "</p><p>“Are you sure?” Simon asks. “We <em>were </em>promised a viewing. And Chaz is practically family to your boss. I wouldn’t want either of them to lose their temper...”</p><p>“I…” The man hesitates. Simon smiles at him, focusing all his energy and praying that some persuasive magic rises to the surface of his skin. “Fine. I suppose I could take you through. But you’ll have to be quick.”</p><p>Baz squeezes Simon’s hand as the man enters the code to the door that nearly did his leg in. It beeps and clicks open. This is it. Their chance.</p><p>They step into a room crammed with rich-people junk. Huge paintings. Plush velvet chairs. Jackets with millions of gold buttons. Getting to the ring is a right palaver. The man has to open a vault and everything. When he finally opens what must be the third box, it's right there — a shiny gold ring with a huge purple gemstone. It's old looking. The gem is so big that it actually looks quite tacky. But Simon can feel the power radiating from it. So strong that it almost makes him feel woozy.</p><p>Baz pulls some leather gloves from his pocket and puts them on like he's readying to investigate a crime scene. “May I?” he asks, reaching out.</p><p>The man looks wary, but doesn’t dare to refuse. Baz takes the ring in his hand and Simon holds his breath. They've found it. Now they just need to get it out of here.</p><p>“It’s as pretty as you said,” Simon says, leaning in.</p><p>“Isn’t it?” Baz is lifting it. Examining it from every angle. He's pulled a tiny magnifying glass from his pocket now, the pretentious twat. God, he's brilliant.</p><p>“It’s a shame it doesn’t come in any other colours,” Simon says. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it's beautiful, but…” He glances coyly at Baz. “But don’t you think it’d be prettier if it matched your eyes?”</p><p>“My eyes?” Baz says. “But yours are all the more lovelier.”</p><p>The man is looking more uncomfortable now, so Simon cranks up the gay. He touches Baz’s waist and gazes at him. He looks up at Baz with every ounce of affection he can muster, and it's not even that hard really. Simon's starting to understand why this all comes so easily to him. Dancing with Baz. Spending the whole night by his side. Pushing him against a wall kissing him.</p><p>But he can’t think about that. Not now. Not yet. Maybe not <em>ever. </em></p><p>"Try it on," Baz says.</p><p>Simon doesn’t hesitate. It looks ridiculous, plonked on one of his stubby fingers, but he gasps like he's the luckiest man alive.</p><p>"How does it feel?" Baz asks.</p><p>"Good," he says. "But it's pretty tight."</p><p>Baz smirks and leans in even closer. "You don't usually complain, darling."</p><p>Simon's not sure who flushes more, him or Mr. Security. The man averts his eyes quickly, side-stepping away from them like they’re contagious.</p><p>"Thirty seconds,” he says, pointing a finger. “That’s all you’ve got. Wrap it up.”</p><p>He stalks across the room to pretend to admire a painting, and Simon winks at Baz the second his back is turned. He fakes a ridiculous swoon.</p><p>"Are you alright?" Baz asks.</p><p>"Yeah. I’ve just come over a little bit dizzy all of a sudden. I feel like I'm <em><strong>‘seeing double’</strong></em><strong>.</strong>"</p><p>Baz's eyes widen as a second ring appears in his hand. It’s a perfect likeness. A magicless dud. It’s fucking <em>perfect</em>. All it takes is a swift sleight of hand. Simon slips the real ring off his finger while Baz makes a show of examining the fake one.</p><p>Baz used to ridicule him for doing magic without a wand. He used to call Simon a loose cannon who was mocking centuries of magickal tradition. But he's not complaining now. He looks impressed when Simon leans in and touches Baz's hip, slipping the real ring into his trouser pocket.</p><p>“If you’re feeling unwell, we should leave,” Baz says. “Let you rest up before the auction."</p><p>Simon raises his voice a little, making sure the security guard hears him. “We’d better give the ring back to this nice guy, eh? Bid on it fair and square like the rest of ‘em."</p><p>Baz’s voice is dripping with politeness as he thanks the man and hands over the lookalike. The man doesn’t suspect anything. He just nods and puts it back in its case. He looks relieved that they’re done being gay and demanding. “This has been so incredibly useful. We'll be sure to get out of your hair now."</p><p>The man rubs his bald head self-consciously. "Thanks," he says through gritted teeth.</p><p>Baz leads him out of the room. “Well,” he says. “Time to head back.”</p><p>Simon nods. His pulse is fluttering. They only went and fucking did it. They can go home now. Mission complete. They should be so thrilled about it.</p><p>But he can't shake the creeping disappointment that's settling in his chest</p><p>Because if they’ve found the ring, then that means it’s over.</p><p>And if it’s over, then that means everything has to go back to normal.</p><p>And Simon doesn’t want that. He wants to live in a world where he can always grab Baz’s hand without thinking. Where Baz will say sweet things to him and actually mean it. Where they kiss in non-life-threatening situations and meet up outside of work on Sundays and walk through the park, holding hands and arguing over what shit film they’re gonna watch when they cuddle up on the couch later.</p><p>Merlin.</p><p>He wants Baz<em>. </em>He wants him <em>so much</em>.</p><p>"You've gone awfully quiet," Baz says as they step outside into the cool dark air. "Are you alright?"</p><p>Simon barely manages to nod.</p><p>He wants Baz, and the weight of it is so heavy that he’s not sure he’ll ever be alright again.</p><p>***</p><p>“Fuck." Simon exhales as their hotel door clicks closed. "We did it. We— ”</p><p>Simon's throat dries up because Baz is gazing at him. He sets the ring down onto the TV stand and shrugs out of his pink suit jacket. Normally Baz'd be scrambling for a coat hanger, but he doesn’t even bother to look for one. He just drops it down onto a chair and stands there looking breathtakingly beautiful.</p><p>“Get on the bed,” he says to Simon. “And take those off.”</p><p>Baz gestures at Simon's legs, and Simon's breath catches. He just straight up (<em>gay </em>up?) loses it. His stomach flares with heat, because Baz’s voice is low and smooth and he's saying words like <em>bed</em> and <em>take off </em>and his mind is jumping straight to things he shouldn't be thinking about.</p><p>The panic must show on his face because Baz clarifies quickly. “I mean your trousers. You're hurt. And although it was caused entirely by your own stupidity, I’m in a good enough mood to help you heal.”</p><p>“Right,” Simon says. “Yeah. <em>Obviously</em>. That’s what I thought you— "</p><p>"Trousers off<em>,</em>" Baz says again, and Simon just nods.</p><p>Baz averts his eyes as Simon shimmies out of them, wincing as the fabric chafes over the bit of his leg that really fucking hurts. He takes off his jacket too, because boxers and a suited-up top half is a bad look, and he drags off his tie while he's at it. He sets his fake glasses on the bedside table and loosens a few shirt buttons. When he perches down on the edge of the bed his heart is hammering, threatening to burst out of his chest.</p><p>“Okay,” he says, and his voice comes out raspy. “Done.”</p><p>Baz turns back towards him. He gives Simon a once over before his gaze settles on his thigh. “That looks painful. I can heal it. But I’m going to have to touch you.”</p><p>“That's fine! I mean, you already have. I mean— ”</p><p>“Shh,” Baz interrupts him. He drops to his knees and taps his wand against Simon’s lips. “You may never speak of this. To anyone.”</p><p>“What— ”</p><p>“<em><strong>Kiss it better,</strong></em><strong>”</strong> Baz speaks with magic.</p><p>His lips graze softly over Simon’s thigh, and Simon feels the magic licking into him like a flame. The hairs on his legs stand up. His whole body's covered in goosebumps. He feels a rush of heat and magic and he takes in the sight of Baz, knelt in front of him, practically between his legs, and he—</p><p>He <em>reacts. </em></p><p>Merlin.</p><p><em>Motherfucker</em>.</p><p>Just when he thought this day couldn’t get any gayer.</p><p>But maybe Baz won’t notice? Maybe Baz won’t notice. <em>Maybe Baz won’t— </em></p><p>“Right.” Baz jumps up, clearing his throat. “I think that should be hard enough— um, healed enough! <em>Healed </em>enough.”</p><p>He looks all shaken up, and who can blame him? All that holding hands and dancing and snogging was a lot, but at least it was all for show. There’s no one else here now. It’s just the three of them. Baz and Simon and Simon's inappropriate boner.</p><p>“I— I know what this looks like," Simon says quickly, "but this evening’s just been a <em>lot</em>, okay? I mean, you know it’s fake and I know it’s fake, but this little bloke doesn’t. Er, not that it’s small or anything. I think it’s pretty decent sized, actually? I— "</p><p>Simon flushes even more as Baz’s gaze trails down. It doesn’t help the situation one bit. Simon shifts his arm in a useless attempt at modesty, but it doesn't really help him. He's dying here. Moments away from combusting.</p><p>"It's just nature," Simon says helplessly. "Hormones and — and blood and— "</p><p>"I'm quite familiar with the process."</p><p>"Right. Because you're a bloke too. So you…"</p><p>"Yes," Baz says tersely.</p><p>"So… so what now? You gonna make fun of me? Tell everyone? Remind me of this mortifying moment for the rest of my life?"</p><p>"I don't know. My etiquette lessons hardly prepared me for the correct way to react to my work partner's untimely erection."</p><p>Simon groans. "Look, I'm sorry, alright? I wish I could be all cold and clinical about this whole thing like you are, but it's just different for me— "</p><p>"Different how?"</p><p>Simon shrugs, and Baz repeats the question.</p><p>“I just— ” Simon’s voice trembles and his words come out all rushed. “I guess I just had a lot of fun tonight!"</p><p>Baz nods. "Because of the food. Because you love swanning around pretending you're in a spy film."</p><p>"Not just that. Because of <em>you.</em>"</p><p>Simon hears Baz suck in a breath.</p><p>"There's no one else here, Snow. You… you don't have to pretend anymore."</p><p>"I’m not pretending. I wish I <em>was</em>. Merlin, that'd be so much easier, wouldn't it? I'd pick that over sitting here in my pants embarrassing myself any day of the week. But it's too late now, so you might as well just get it over with. Take the piss. Request a new partner. Do whatever you have and just put me out of my misery, because I’m mortified and you’re not saying anything and— "</p><p>Simon doesn't have time to finish his sentence. He barely has time to take a breath before Baz closes the space between them. He’s half on the bed and half in Simon’s lap, and Simon can’t believe it. He gasps as Baz drags him close and just melts into him. He slides down onto his back and lets Baz press him into the mattress and he doesn't care one bit that he's laying at an awkward angle. He doesn't want to waste a single second getting comfier, because this is happening. <em>Actually </em>happening. No one's making them do this. This is <em>real</em> and it's so good and it's—</p><p>And it’s over far too soon. Baz leans back, and Simon wants to reach out for him. He doesn’t want to let him go.</p><p>"I… I just have to clarify,” Baz says. "That you're not confused. That the ring didn't put you under some kind of enchantment or— "</p><p>Simon laughs. "I'm not confused, Baz. I feel like I just finished a 5000 piece jigsaw. Or like one of those detectives with a big investigation board who just connected all the clues together with red string."</p><p>"What does that even mean?"</p><p>"That I think you're <em>brilliant</em>. And I loved being with you tonight. And I wanna do it again but like… for real next time? You know, knock off all the pink stuff and the fake names and just be <em>us</em>.” Simon smiles. “Because I like you. Because you make me feel properly invincible. And I really liked that kissing part. Wish you hadn’t stopped, to be honest.”</p><p>Baz smiles too. He takes Simon's hand and leans down again. His fingers are so soft as they brush Simon's cheek and it feels so good. So <em>right. </em></p><p>So naturally, Simon's pretty pissed when Baz pulls back <em>again</em>.</p><p>"Sorry," Baz says, pushing up off the bed. "I just have to get rid of this wretched enchantment. This is probably the peak of my pitiful existence and I don't want to be Chaz right now. I want to be <em>me</em>.”</p><p>Baz grabs his wand. He attempts a spell, but nothing happens.</p><p>“Fuck.” Baz is blushing. <em>Actually </em>blushing. “Oh, Crowley, I think I have to remove the suit for it to work.”</p><p>Simon grins. "Go for it. Don't let me stop you."</p><p>Baz turns even pinker. “At least look away. I gave you privacy to undress. Have some manners.”</p><p>Simon smiles more. “You’ve always said my manners were atrocious. Guess you’ll finally have to deal with the consequences.”</p><p>“Fine,” Baz answers with a smirk. “Have it your way.”</p><p>He watches Baz take off his clothes — fingers working at his buttons, trousers dropping to the floor — and Simon doesn’t even try to be subtle. He just ogles Baz, memorising every detail because he can. Baz pulls out his wand and casts a spell and his dark hair shimmers back into place. It makes his sharp features stand out more. Makes his face look so much lovelier. Simon didn't realise how much he missed him — the real Baz. <em>His</em> Baz. He's so fucking beautiful it hurts.</p><p>Baz seems to agree. He turns to check his reflection and Simon hears him heave a huge sigh of relief. He runs his fingers through his hair. He flips it like he's selling shampoo in the ad-break of bloody <em>Coronation Street</em>.</p><p>"Crowley, I missed you," he mutters, and Simon laughs.</p><p>“You're gorgeous, we get it," Simon says. "Now get over here and do me."</p><p>“A little eager, aren’t we? I'd normally expect at least dinner first."</p><p>"No I mean— " Simon feels his cheeks heat up again. “Make me look like myself again. Make me Simon<em>.</em>”</p><p>Baz points his wand and Simon feels a lick of fire inside him. He shudders as it extinguishes suddenly, like someone blew out fifty birthday candles all at once.</p><p>“That’s better,” Baz murmurs, crawling back onto the bed. “Now come here. <em>Simon.</em>"</p><p>Simon pulls him close, fingers roaming down his back. He draws him in and kisses him until he's breathless. He melts like wax to Baz’s flame.</p><p>They stay pressed together for so long that time loses all meaning. The world could be crashing down outside their hotel room. There could be wanted posters of their faces plastered all over the city. The bald security man could be giving a statement about them on BBC News right now. But Simon wouldn't care.</p><p>He can't care about anything except <em>this</em>.</p><p>When they're too exhausted to move, Simon tucks himself under Baz's arm, head pressed into the crook of his neck. He loves it here. If Baz thinks they're ever going back to being regular work partners after all this, he's got another thing coming.</p><p>"So…" he says, his finger tracing lazy patterns on Baz's chest. "So are you gay then?"</p><p>Baz just gawks at him<em>. </em>"Is now really the time to be asking that?"</p><p>"You really are though. Proper gay and stuff? You… do you fancy me?"</p><p>"I fancy the chances of you shutting up," Baz says, and Simon huffs. "Fine. If you must know, then yes. To all of the above. I've been sinfully attracted to you for so long that tonight was absolute torture. Although, I must say that things have taken a much more pleasant turn now.”</p><p>Simon nods, a smile tugging at his lips. "Cool."</p><p>"<em>Cool</em>?" Baz echoes. "Crowley, is that all you have to say?"</p><p>Simon grins wider. "Maybe someone left me speechless."</p><p>“You give me far too much credit if you're trying to imply that your lack of eloquence is my fault.”</p><p>Simon prods Baz’s chest. “You've got to be nice to me now, you know. Terms and conditions.”</p><p>“Of what?”</p><p>“Being my boyfriend,” Simon says. “My <em>real </em>one.”</p><p>“Am I your boyfriend?”</p><p>“Well, it worked pretty well tonight, didn't it?”</p><p>“I suppose it did," Baz says, and Simon knows he's smiling too.</p><p>"When did you know?" Simon asks. "About all this."</p><p>"Warrington," Baz answers without hesitation. "We were sent out to deal with those chimera attacks and you threw yourself in front of me to protect me. And that's when I knew... that you were a massive idiot who couldn't follow simple instructions."</p><p>Simon huffs. "I meant when did you know that you <em>liked</em> me?"</p><p>"Warrington," Baz says again. "We were sent out to deal with those chimera attacks and that's when I knew that you were one of those gorgeous heroic types. That working with you was going to drive me wild."</p><p>"Wait. Wasn't that like our second case together?" Simon asks in surprise.</p><p>"Yes. And if I recall, you almost got us both killed."</p><p>"<em>Oh."</em> Simon’s smiling again. He can’t help himself.</p><p>Baz exhales softly. "You know they'll roast us alive at work for this, don't you? And of course, Fiona will have something to say about it."</p><p>"Yeah. But if they're proper dicks then we can just take the ring and do a runner. Sell it off. Rent a car. Spend our lives driving around nicking jewellery."</p><p>"Has anyone ever mentioned you're a terrible influence?"</p><p>"I'm a rogue undercover agent, Baz. I just go wherever the mini-quiches lead me."</p><p>"I suppose we'd have to work on our act. If we're doing this full-time, we'll have to be seamless. It might require a lot of practice."</p><p>Simon shifts so he can look down at Baz. He presses a hand earnestly to his chest.</p><p>"I'm willing to put in the time if you are," he says.</p><p>And then he kisses Baz again just because he can.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks so much for giving this a read. find me over here on <a href="https://arca9.tumblr.com/">tumblr!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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